


Shattered Glass

by Francisthebee



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-15 05:47:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10551106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Francisthebee/pseuds/Francisthebee
Summary: We were complete opposites, opposites with more similarities than we'd ever care to admit. We had both begun to heal, to mend, to once again be happy. A feat that could only be achieved with the help of each other. But it's no more, and I don't think I'll ever have the chance to heal again. Because some wounds, not even magic can heal, especially not those in the heart. -Oneshot





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is only like my second attempt at a oneshot so here we go - hope you enjoy! (I mean as much as you can it's emotional).

It was never supposed to hurt this much. But then I was never supposed to care.

I was never supposed to feel anything other than the typical vague feelings of loss that happens when anyone dies. But you're not anyone, and I wonder when you became more than that.

No one believed it, especially not me, not at first. You were too willing, to desperate, it had to be nothing but an act. But it wasn't, and now I find some part of myself wishing it was.

You made a difference, no one can ever deny that, and anyone who dared question your loyalty surely wouldn't now. Now they trust you, see that your intentions were true. They've finally started to believe the words that came out of your mouth, words I knew were true from almost the very beginning. Almost, but not quite.

I think now that if I had simply accepted what I felt all that long ago, that I would've had more time, that it wouldn't hurt so much, that I would have been more prepared for you to go. But I know it's not true. I know that no matter how long it would have been- could have been, it would've hurt just as much.

The hurt, the pain is unfathomable. So raw, so sudden, but it's as if it's happening a world away, because the pain is hidden behind a numbness, an inability to comprehend what I'm seeing, an inability to understand how this could've happened and even that it did.

It seems hard to believe that only moments before you were here, we were together, I could still see the light reflecting in your eyes and the wind softly blowing through your hair. It seems impossible for you to have been taken all of a sudden. Stolen from the world before the time was right.

I know, I know that I should've expected it. We've both known it, we've all known it ever since you came. We've know that the possibility of death was always round the corner, that we could never be too cautious, never too rash. But that time passed. The time for caution passed and nothing came of it. I allowed myself to relax, to be happy; we both did. So naïve, so completely and utterly stupid.

Although I suppose that no longer matters. It's not as if we can correct mistakes made in the past. It's not as if we can change what's happened.

I suppose I'll somehow have to accept that my last memory of your face, your face when you were alive, will be a cool determination before you faced the war ahead. I'll have to accept that even thought there were so many things left unsaid that it's too late to say it now. It's too late to tell you just how much I really felt for you. To tell you that no matter how distant everyone else seemed and how bitter, that I would always be there. I will never get to whisper those three words when I wake up next to you in the morning and when we go to sleep at night. I'll have to accept that you've never known, and now you never will know just how much you really meant.

I remember the look in your eyes, the look you had seconds before it all came to an end. The realisation, the horror, the heartbreak. So much was conveyed with just that one look that it will haunt me in the best and the worst possible ways for the rest of my life.

I suppose so many things were left unsaid, unspoken, but the look, that final look, I suppose, conveyed enough.

Now, your eyes hold no emotion. Blank as the canvas they were when you first came with only a slight glisten of unshed tears betraying any true emotion. It's sweet I suppose, to finally see you at peace. To know that you won't be waking up screaming from the horrors of the night anymore, to now that nothing, that no one can hurt you anymore.

It almost makes me feel selfish. Selfish about the fact that I would rather you here right now, with me, suffering as you have for the whole of your life if it only meant I could see you again, to tell you everything that a look can't convey, to show you the love you never thought you deserved.

I'm slowly beginning to come out of the haze I think. That numb feeling slowly disappearing, the world around me once again coming into existence. I hear the shouts, the yells, the screams, the cries of everyone around me. Everyone who's dying, who has seen someone they loved, they treasured disappear from the future of their life.

But I look around to see that no one has noticed. No one has noticed just one more body on the floor. Just another body to bury, another fallen comrade. Nothing more.

Only you were to me. And I don't understand why you were, I don't suppose I ever will. There was so much I still didn't know, so much you still didn't care to share, yet so much you did. You made me see the real you, the person whom I dare say I fell in love with, the one I had planned to spend forever with. But forever is only as long as you make it. It's only as long as the world allows it to be. For me, for you, forever just wasn't long enough.

I turn slowly back to the battle. My grief and pain turning into an uncontrollable anger for the world, anger for what anyone had dared to take from me, to take from him.

We were complete opposites, opposites with more similarities than we'd ever care to admit. We had both began to heal, to mend, to once again be happy. A feat that could only be achieved with the help of each other. But it's no more, and I don't think I'll ever have the chance to heal again. Because some wounds, not even magic can heal, especially not those in the heart.

So I turn and walk away, away from your still body, from all the promises never to be kept, away from the bright future we had ahead of us. And Draco, the only thing I can possibly think to say to you now is that I'm sorry.


End file.
